


Glad to Have Left You

by TheVirtuousGuardianofHearts



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dark, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Friendship, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Short Story, Violence, War-Torn, Wold War III, slight gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 07:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2459588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVirtuousGuardianofHearts/pseuds/TheVirtuousGuardianofHearts





	Glad to Have Left You

**Glad to Have Left You**

 

_Burning and blackness. Screaming and wheezing. Choking and hacking._

_The environment around me is a mixture of shades and colors; black smoke morbidly embraces me, electric-yellow sparks fly and red embers soar, twirling about the destruction before me. Dancing triangles incinerate oxygen from the air, such beautiful yellow-orange shapes._

 

_Muffled shouts and gargled wallows bounce to my ears. The wooden house cracks and moans, cutting any further human sounds to be heard._

 

_I shift toward the edge of my bed and toss my feet over. When my feet touch the ground, I make an attempt to stand; I painfully crumple to the floor, struggling to breath. My sut-covered body slammed against the wooden floors, my lungs constrict until I heave a dry cough._

 

_Racking my body and coughing black phlegm, I begin to crawl through my doorway and down the wooden staircase, making sure I avoid ascended elevation out of the smoke’s choking range._

 

_I look toward the living room, gazing at my screaming mother and see my father lying limp under debris. Mother makes an attempt to pull my father out from under a burning beam. Unfortunately (unknown to my mother), my father’s midsection was severed by the weight of the beam. When mom pulled with all her might, there was a sound of rotten fruit squashing, and my father split in half._

 

_Organs squirt out from my father’s body, creating a pool of blood, intestines and other unmentionable things. My mother clenches tightly to my father as life left his eyes, screaming in loss of possession; like an animal who has nothing more to lose._

 

_She glares intensely at me, shouting “Get out of here, go”! I can’t move though; my legs don’t work, my arms won’t flex. I just stare in shock, unmoving. I can’t picture the emotions I should be feeling. Just shock, no time to think or feel._

 

_My mom hastily crawls to me, yelling words that I can’t even hear. Or, I can hear, but my brain lacks the capability to process any form language at the moment. She frustratingly grabs me by the wrist and pulls me away from collapsing, burning wood. She drags me. Pulling. We’re out the back kitchen door now. Fresh air tackling my respiratory system. My chest burns as clean oxygen cleanses my contaminated lungs._

 

_Mother embraces me, trying to comfort me with a piteous hug. Watching the house crumble to ashes, collapsing beams making the house cave in on it. Sparks fly and a cheap imitation of fireworks wickedly glower the remains of me and mother’s house. Crying, streams of salted liquid gliding down her tender cheeks. A weak voice, she softly mumbles “It’s alright Charles. I’m still he-.” An explosion erupted from the top of the house. I fly back and break through my backyard’s wooden fence. My ears ring. I can’t hear anything and it takes a long while to get my visuals straight; I wish I stayed blind. My mother lying dead, wooden shards protruding from her body. She shielded me. She died just because of me. Now I have no one._

 

_I begin falling into darkness… an infinity I thought I’d never inhabit._

 

I awaken with a start, beads of sweat gliding down the side of my face. I’ve had the same dream every night since 1 week after that horrific day. I can’t rid of that traumatic experience. Even now, my body remains in this state of shock. No emotion.

 

The sun’s light glistens through small crevices of my fractured concrete walls, my woven black toque crumples against my nightstand table’s lamp. Broken glass laid aside my damaged windowsill in bits and pieces. A LED light bulb sways side to side from its wire upon the roof. Familiarizing myself that I have awoken within my own bedroom years later, I lie here, reminding myself just who I am.

 

My name is Charles P. Lawrence, I am 17 years old, my birthday is 10/24/3000, and the current date is 7/13/3017. I frequently do these mental analysis of myself; I could easily forget my entire existence if it weren’t for the indescribable thing that bubbled deep inside of me every time I thought about DAMN. I am emotionless and insensitive, yes, however I am not stupid. I am aware that this _thing_ that makes living so hard is a feeling; I am just unaware to what it is or how to approach it. If I was to guess, I would say it could be closely connected to rage and grief.

 

My bleary iPod screen lights up and plays its imitation of a rooster as my alarm. A little too late for that. However, it is not surprising. Many nights I relive that same scenario, unable to change anything and only able to awaken once the dream runs its course. I grasp these now unknown feelings to my heart, and routinely realize how I am just a walking shell. Existing but not living.

 

I toss the blanket off my body, swing my legs over the edge of the bed, and use the momentum to fluently sit up. The balls of my feet touch the old-wood floor and hear intolerable creaks while I shift my weight on my heels and toes.

 

I open the door to the sun’s warmth and am welcomed by my ‘Best Friend’ to whom he considers me one, but I simply lack the ability to cherish something as simple as a human bond (much less any emotional or mutual attachment). He knows of my emotional condition; I confirmed it with him, explaining this specific part of my past. I told him because without prior knowledge he would likely scowl and shout at me for being emotionless, heartless, or cold. After I explained my ‘emotional disablement’ he thought he understood, however the miniscule portion he ‘understands’ is merely a puzzle piece to a board of a thousand cut outs. Since then, he calls me his ‘Best Friend.’

 

He says to others that his name is Leo. I asked him what the reason was to why he prefers I call him Leonard in opposition to others, he simply shrugged me off saying “Because you’re my best friend!” Something along those lines, I could care less.

 

“Hey, are you alright? Did you sleep okay? Do you need anything?”

 

“Yes. No. No. Persisting to ask me the same questions every morning, only to receive the same answer suggests you are attempting to bring out a human emotion as simple and mundane as irritation. My deduction is correct, yes?”

 

“Again, your ‘deduction’ skills will amaze me till the day I die!” He cheerily said, patting me on the back. I instinctively flinch, I’m still not used to the human contact that Leonard is accustomed to.

 

“That’s likely” I say sarcastically.

 

Leonard smiles, “That’s two emotions down.”

 

“Irritation and sarcasm, to think you want me to call you my ‘friend.’” I reply.

 

“Oh so now you’re teasing me? I wonder what category of emotion that falls under.” Leonard laughed.

 

With no hesitation I answer his question “Teasing leads to playfulness, playfulness’s source is happiness.”

 

A smile spreads across Leonard’s lips “I knew the book I gave you would help! You know, I won’t give up on you. In a month, you’ll feel and understand emotions again.”

 

I remain unmoved, uncertain of how to react with the situation at hand. Leonard gave me a book called ‘The Human Heart: Emotion.’ Out of a whim, I read it. Yet, I barely grasp the concept of ‘emotion’.

 

After what seemed like a minute, I calmly end this pointless bicker called conversation, “I highly doubt you’re psychological ability can surpass my emotionally traumatized brain. May we head to _DAMNIC_ (Deadly Amnesic Memory Neutralization Inspection Clinic)?”

 

With a fallen smile, Leonard nodded, “Oh yeah! I was so captivated of our time together, that I simply forgot to insure my citizenship on these fine mountains!”

 

We live in mountains our society calls The Highlands. Tis a place isolated from most life forms. _DAMNIC_ is our governed facility that examines your body. They approach the procedure in a manner of an autopsy. Except, their patient is alive. They also provide medical training so when you’re old enough, you may become a nurse. Practice procedures are often gory, though.

 

When we’re at the front doors of _DAMNIC_ , Silo the Golden Retriever barks and wags his tail.

 

Silo is a stray dog that feasts on leftovers by the 3513 survivors on the Highlands. He’s grubby, yet his fur coat visibly glows with its ‘golden’ aspect. No one claimed Silo due to safety laws and prohibitions, but some people -such as Leonard- pet him.

 

“Awh Silo! You ready for another ball game!?” Leonard bends over and places his hands on his knees, flashing a wide grin.

 

Silo rapturously barks back, wagging his tail.

 

Leonard grasps a blue rubber ball in his back pocket -the one he commonly uses to play with Silo-. By this action, Silo crouches in anticipation.

 

“ **CATCH**!” Leonard shouts gleefully, shifting all body weight and momentum in his right arm to mightily throw the ball.

 

“What is the point in playing one game of catch with Silo every morning?” I bicker aloud, eyeing Silo run for the ball.

 

“Because just like you, he is existing, not living. If playing catch with him in the morning grants a purpose for that dog to live, then so be it. I will grant him the gift to feel alive, whether it be brief or not.” Leonard answers with a smirk on his face, sure of his resolve.

 

“I lack sympathy in opposition to you.” I chide, “Silo is a domesticated canine, not a human. Why bound yourself with it?”

 

Leonard just looked at me, firmly lay his hand on my shoulder and said “Because we all feel.”

 

After the daily _DAMNIC_ examination, Leonard and I walked along Rocky Road Park. We both had some ice cream in each other's hands. I don't love or hate ice cream, cookies and cream just taste good.

 

"You really love cookies and cream, huh?" Leonard grinned with an ice cream-stache.

 

" **ONLY** because I enjoy the taste. All produced endorphin do not grant emotional attachment to this childish treat." I stated instantaneously.

 

"If you say so." Leonard dropped it, knowing not to pry any longer.

 

Leonard and I seated ourselves on the park bench. We were watching the stars, gazing afar to the crescent moon. How can we gaze at stars and be at peace? Asteroids glazed in dust bring a sense of peace? What queer logic. No one was around, silence. The trees were still, slumbering. In this moment, life was in appropriate order.

 

Heat arises, clouded vision, loss of logic... heavy breathing.

 

"Charles, is everything okay?" No response. No movement, no vision. VISIONS OF TERROR AND DISPAIR! NOTHING IS RESPONSIVE!

 

 

Now my eyes are open. Line of vision remains distraught, yet I smell something strange. I lean over to my nightstand as I lay on my bed, forgetting how I got here. The light flicks open and all I see is red.

 

Blood. All my eyes see are droplets of blood. I look at my iPod screen to peek at the time.

 

1:08am.

 

I fail to remember how I managed to get blood on my clothes. I formulate a hypothesis that, I likely went to DAMNIC and proceeded to exert my energy into another Nursing Exercise. I did plan to head there after I departed of Leonard anyway. Seems legitimate.

 

I flicked off my shirt, pull down my pants, and toss my blood-spurted clothes in the hamper. I walk in my washroom and turn on the shower. My hands have some blood on it, too. I thoroughly wash myself, put on pajamas, and closed my lamp's light.

 

_I've never been here. Where am I? Wait, Leonard. Oh, we're at Rocky Road Park. This dream is different, it’s nice. I feel something, wait, I FEEL. I can't control myself. I lose my sights. I can't see. I HATE ALL THIS! I HATE EVERYTHING! I... feel hatred, despair, sorrow, pain._

 

_"Charles, what's happening!?" Caution and fright, genuine concern._

 

_"I HATE ALL THESE FEELINGS! I HATE THIS PAIN OF LOSING THOSE PRECIOUS TO ME! I HATE THIS SOLITARY LIFE! I HATE FEELING LOVE, BUT LOSING SIGHT OF IT! I HATE MY LIFE! I HATE YOU FOR MAKING ME FEEL THIS WAY! EVERYTHING WAS JUST FINE EMOTIONLESS AND SUPPRESSED!" I keep shouting, knowing that no one can hear because this 'park' is out of bounds to our town._

 

_Leonard refuses to retaliate. Even now, as I am ruthlessly punching him, clawing him, shouting my words of hatred, he takes it. He shoulders this screaming pain that won't stop blaring my brain._

 

_Punching, cracking, weeping, and screaming. All these ill thoughts and feelings which have been suppressed for so long, unleash a combustion of dense love and hatred._

 

_Now I breathe heavily. Gasping and crying at what I've just done to my best friend. No, NO! He's barely breathing!_

 

_"There we go. Do you feel alright now? I knew you’d feel again. Why have you stopped releasing your hatred? I know there's more despair pent up within the confined cell of your heart. Ever since I was born, my life was fated to despise this cursed world. Simply hate and resent everyone and everything. As a child, my father who is the leader of The Foundation, the organization that violently started and chemically ended this war; brainwashed me to sacrifice those who’re in front me. ‘Succeed the objectives I was given, destroy who or what gets in my way.’ That’s what I was born and raised to learn. At the age of 14 I was given my first bombing mission on a warm cottage isolated from society in a forest. The ‘targets’ were a happy family of three, a mother, a father, and a son. After I unwillingly went through with this mission, I assassinated my own father. I saw no end to that wretched man flaunting sorrow, so I suppressed all emotion and slayed my own kin for the sake of humanity. Of course, I fled The Foundation, never looking back, running away from my mistakes. When I reached The Highlands, I met you, the very boy who survived my cottage massacre mission. I saw the pain me and my father have inflicted on you, suppressing all the loathing of that traumatizing day, soon to explode. So I vowed to shoulder your hatred, take it all for the better of others and yourself. This way, you can begin to make friends, open up to others and express whatever love you feel before it’s too late." He somehow finds the strength to give this speech. Funny, it seems like he's been planning these words forever._

 

_I cry hoarsely, tears fall upon my now close-to-death friend. "No, your past does not matter to me. You’re my friend. I am so sorry for all those times I've ridiculed your unwavering kindness and affability! I hurt you, and all you did was care for me. I am so messed up, you know that, but you never gave up on me. Now, you're bloody, almost dead by my hand, and all you're wondering is if I'm alright, and that you're glad to be the victim of my hatred!"_

_A moment (that felt like a millennia) passed, then Leonard’s lips twitch into a crooked grin "Now, just like Silo, you're living and not just existi-."_

 

_"NO! Stop please, don't leave me! No, I am not alright, no, I haven't been able to peacefully sleep because of these nightmares. Yes, I do need something... I need you." I tightly clutch onto Leonard, sobbing in his chest, listening to his weakening heart beat. I have just been shot in the heart._

 

_Leonard hooked his hand behind my neck and touches his forehead with mine "This guilt will never cast away from my soul for the misery I’ve put on you-” Leonard croaked “I have met you, I've saved, and I am now glad to have left you." Leonard falls limp, his lips curling upward as he lays breathless._

 

_I begin falling into darkness… a different infinity I thought I’d never inhabit._

 

I wake up. A wet muzzle nuzzling my arm. I look over and see Silo, whimpering with a blue rubber ball. I sadly smile, open my arms wide and signal Silo to come. Silo hops on my bed and flops beside me. I feel the blue rubber ball at my feet. I reach down and hold it close to my heart.

 

I too, am glad to have met you. I will never forget the one person who has never left my side... Leonard.

 

My name is Charles P. Lawrence, I am 17 years old, my birthday is 10/24/3000, and the current date is 7/14/3017. This day, will leave a mark on my heart forever.


End file.
